Shoo

He goes my average speed. This is good. Real good. So I ride the wheels of the man on blades. Legs on eight spheres propel him around a lake path. He stays in form until he yells at others going slower. At a jogging dad behind a biking child. At a woman cruising alongside a man running. At a man and woman, like me, astride their own sets of two wheels. There goes Speed Demon Joe, a voice cries in return. Look how fast he goes holding shoes on his back. (Speed Demon Joe has sneakers on his hands crossed behind him.) I could slow and provide the other yeller with Joe's pace (more than thirteen miles per hour) but then the demon could turn and breath fire at me. Not prepared to burn, I mumble a remark, letting him know someone quiet with pedals will pass on his left.